


Holocene

by thebesttempinchiswick



Series: I Go Ten Thousand Miles [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, injury cw, post 8x21
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 04:32:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1885284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebesttempinchiswick/pseuds/thebesttempinchiswick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>someway baby it's part of me, apart from me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holocene

Why, why, why. Why was this happening now? It was coming at him from all sides today.

His brother was shaking in the passenger seat, the bunker another hour's drive away, and the locket on his chest had started to heat rapidly.

The metal was usually warm to the touch, a combination of body heat from him and the living grace inside. But it had been cold all day, and he had worried. He hadn't stopped worrying lately. Worrying about Sam and the trials, and since the other night, he was worried about Cas too. He'd been manipulated, by some Naomi character, he knew that much. But this hadn't been the usual bullshit. This had been fucking brainwashing, mind control, 1984-esque bullshit. And fuck that. Not only had that happened, but Cas had disappeared straight afterwards. Taken the tablet and flown away, in god knows what state of mind.

And honestly, that was what bothered Dean. That Cas was alone somewhere, possibly being chased by angels (what else was new), and he might not be okay. There was a record playing on repeat in the back of his mind, churning out the same monotonous chant over and over. "He might not be alright. He might not get away this time. He might lose the tablet. He might lose his grace. Again. He might die. Again. He might not be okay."

The louder it got, the more he had to focus on the road. The more he tried to focus the more he felt the locket's heat on his collarbone, reminding him that things weren't alright. That Cas was gone, and he couldn't find him. That Sam was being destroyed by crazy, demonic magic, again. Again. That was what struck him. They had been down these roads before. It felt like driving down the same street again and again, with the houses painted a fraction of a shade different each time.

He pulled himself out of his thoughts and forced himself to look at the road. And just in time, too. As soon as he did, a figure appeared in the middle of the inky highway.

>

He didn't have time to waste, so he didn't waste time. He crossed the stretch of black asphalt between them and pulled Cas into his arms, lifting him off of the ground and making his way back towards the car. It took him a moment to realize that the bundle in his arms was murmuring. "Dean..."

"Save it." He huffed. "We'll talk later." And he had every intention of actually talking. Really, he did. But he was going to do it when Sammy was in bed, and hopefully not running a fever, and Cas wasn't bleeding into the backseat of his car.

He shut Cas's door and climbed back into the driver's seat, pumping the gas and praying there weren't cops between here and the bunker.

>

He woke with a start when the car stopped. When had he fallen asleep? Since when did he even need to sleep? The damage done to his grace must have been worse than he feared.

He saw Dean help Sam inside, and started to get out of the car and follow them. Wincing in pain, he looked down at his stomach. The gash was still there, but it was more shallow than it had first been. He was healing. He had probably just needed to regenerate his vessel, and the energy it took rendered him unconscious.

He started to get up again, but found that it was still painful. Very slowly, he eased himself upward, using the car frame for leverage. As soon as he was out the door, however, he saw the bunker door open again, and Dean come out. "Your turn." He huffed. He put his arm around Cas's side, taking his weight and pulling him along, leading him inside.

He slid an arm around Dean's neck for leverage. Together, they made their way to Dean's room, where he lifted Cas onto the counter.

"I'll be right back." He said, and left the room. Cas realized he had never seen Dean's bedroom before. He wished it could've been a more pleasant occasion.

Dean returned, holding bandages, cloths, and peroxide. "You need to take your shirt off."

He scrunched his brows in confusion. "Dean, I do not require human medical care."

"Well suck it up, cause that's what you're getting. You've got a nasty gash, and you're not getting blood all over my furniture. And you're healing slowly, this can't hurt you."

He would've protested, but Dean had a point. There was no use leaving his injury unattended if he could help it.

He carefully slid his coat off, and his shirt. His eyes drooped, and when Dean leaned in to start cleaning his stomach off, he let his head fall into the crook of Dean's shoulder.

"This might sting." Said Dean.

"I do not feel pain the same as you. Only angelic weapons can cause me real injury."

Dean huffed in frustration. "You gonna do this all night?" He said, a little too loudly.

Cas sighed. "No."

Dean continued, cleaning the blood off of his torso and bandaging the wound with gauze and tape. "Alright. You're done. I'll get you some clean clothes for the night, we can wash those. Don't move."

He left again, a bundle of Castiel's bloody garments in his hands. He returned a few moments later with a pair of black lounge pants and a t shirt. "I think I need help." Said Cas.

"Can you stand?" Asked Dean. He slid off the countertop slowly, hesitating on his feet. Dean steadied him with hands at his waist and undid his pants, pulling them down. One leg at a time, he helped him into the lounge pants, and pulled the t shirt over his head. The clothes smelled like Dean, and they were warm. He let his head fall into Dean's shoulder again, but the other man wasn't having it. He helped him into the other room, placing him on the bed and sitting himself in the chair. "Alright, spill."

He took a deep breath. "What would you like to know?"

A thousand emotions flickered across Dean's face, before it settled back to blank frustration. "Alright, first of all, where the hell have you been? What happened to you? Why did you leave? And where's the tablet?"

"I've been at Biggerson's. I was moving from location to location, using them as a disguise."

"And I take it it didn't work."

"For a while it did, but they found me."

"Who's 'they'?"

"Naomi and her cronies. They were hunting for me after I escaped with the tablet."

"Is that what she was using you to get to?"

He took another deep breath. This was exhausting what little energy he had left. "Yes. I must say, she had a rather... grotesque way of going about it."

"So what's with the surgical wound, then? And I'm guessing it's not bad lipo-suction."

He swallowed thickly. "I was storing the tablet within my abdomen. They cut it out of me."

He saw the blood drain from Dean's face and he flushed red, ashamed. He turned his gaze to his hands, fiddling in his lap with the string of his pants.

"They did what?"

He looked up again to see Dean staring at him, open mouthed. Rage built in his throat. "Are you really going to make me say it again? They cut it out of me, alright? They killed a waitress to make me stop moving from place to place, and then Crowley fucking showed up and shot me with a bullet he made from an angel blade. And after that he took us both to an office somewhere and tore it from my stomach. And then he left and I had to shoot the angel guarding me to get away."

Dean was standing now. "You're telling me that in a matter of days, you managed to get your ass handed to you by Naomi, kidnapped by Crowley, and you lost the tablet? And you didn't, not once, think of coming back to me and Sam? And asking for help!?"

"She was going to kill me! I almost was killed! Do you really think you would have been spared?" He growled.

"We could've figured it out!! We could've done something, maybe spared that waitress, maybe spared you."

"I couldn't risk your life like that, not to mention Sam's. I had to leave–"

"Did you? Did you really? What happened to you, man? Why do you think you have to do everything alone?" He cried out. They were both yelling now, and it would be a miracle if they didn't wake Sam and Kevin.

"I almost killed you, for gods sake, and you want me to stick around!? Why the hell do you keep telling me to come back, when shit like this happens?!"

They stopped in their tracks, both realizing at the same time what he had said. He squeezed his eyes shut, scrubbing his face with the heels of his hands. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Dean said, his voice a whisper compared to moments ago.

"For everything."

He felt Dean's arms fold around him, pulling him close. He felt his lungs expand, breathing in close to him. "This is only going to work if we're a team. You have to trust me. Please, please trust me. Cause I can't handle it when you just disappear."

"I'm sorry."

"And for the record, I keep telling you to come back because I want you to come back. I want you to stick around because you're my family. You're Sam's family. We love you."

He could feel his throat tightening, and he tried to breathe evenly, ignoring the pain in his chest. But it was so hard to remain calm. He'd been on overload since the crypt, but this was too much.

Dean didn't know it, but he was the only one who had ever told him that. Angels didn't tell each other they loved each other. They weren't meant to feel love for anything but God and His creations, and most of them didn't feel it at all.

"Will you say that again?" He croaked out against Dean's shoulder, voice breaking.

The hand stroking his back comfortingly stopped in its tracks. "We love you."

And then after a moment. "I love you."

>

He held Cas close, watching him try to keep his emotions down. He knew he couldn't do it, he had to let it out. All that he could do was keep himself close, try to comfort him. After all, it couldn't be easy. He was the only angel to experience such strong emotions, after all. At least, the only one Dean knew of. Or cared about, really.

"I love you." He said again. "I'll say it every day if you want me to. Just so you know."

Cas was slowly going boneless in his arms. He pulled him back onto the bed, pulling the comforter over them both and turning off the bedside lamp. He laid next to him, letting Cas's hands fist into his shirt and Cas's legs wrap around his own. And he had to admit, he could get used to this.

He could almost pretend that Cas hadn't just been shot and sliced up, that he wouldn't leave again. That he worked at a garage somewhere, or maybe a construction business, and Cas had a garden out back. That Sam wasn't sick. That there were no tablets, or angels, or demons. There would just be them, and their house, and the big blue sky.

"I'll find a way to get the tablet back." Said Cas, breaking the heady silence. He reached up to touch his cheek, and found it damp.

"Screw the damn tablet, alright? There's no tablet that's more important to me than you. I don't care if the thing is made out of diamonds, I don't want you to get hurt."

"But, Crowley has it. Who knows what he'll –"

"Screw Crowley too. Look at me." He said, lifting Cas's chin so that their eyes met.

His lover's eyes were rimmed red and puffy, and they glowed like sapphires under the pale light coming in from the bathroom. "Whatever happens, whatever Crowley dishes out, we'll deal with it." He pressed his lips to Cas's forehead. "You and Sam are my first priority. Everything else comes after."

>

He didn't sleep, not this time. Dean had drifted off, but Cas just watched. He watched the other man's chest rise and fall, listened to his heartbeat.

He would have to do something about the tablet, he knew that. He couldn't let Heaven go to waste, again, because of him. But oh, Dean's words had sounded so nice.

He immersed himself in the possibility of doing nothing. Just laying there, unmoving, in Dean's arms, wholly unaware of things coming to pass. Crowley could burn the world, and he may never know. He would be here, breathing in Dean's scent, letting the light of his soul illuminate the dark room that would be his world.

And one day, at the very end, Dean would go to what was left of Heaven. And he would follow, never to set foot upon Earth again. It was a nice dream; a kind one. It was just out of reach.

He couldn't let innocent people die, and he knew Dean and Sam couldn't either. They would have to put up a fight, somehow, some way.

He was filled with an overwhelming wish for things to be different. He wished so badly that they were both human, that they had met at the gym. He wished they were ignorant. He wished he worked at Petco and Dean had come in to buy a kitten for Sam. He wished they could have gone on dates and held each other's hand and introduced each other to their families. He wished Bobby had threatened him with a shotgun, told him not to break Dean's heart, and Ellen had fussed over them both, and Jo and Sam had teased Dean, and he wished that he would see them all at thanksgiving and Christmas and that the pictures they took together weren't taken because they thought that Satan was going to rise and destroy the earth.

And before he knew it, he had created another massive puddle on Dean's shirt. He marveled at his own dissociation. "Cas? You ok?"

"I'm fine." He said. It was half true.

"You sure? My shirt says different."

"Go back to sleep. I'm okay."

Dean wasn't having it. He propped himself up on an elbow. "Tell me. I want to hear it."

"Do you think we could, maybe, take more pictures?"

Dean looked puzzled, so he continued. "It's just, the only one we ever took was when we thought Lucifer was going to kill us all. I... I just think we should have more is all. With Kevin and Charlie and Garth and all. I love the one we have, but... I think we need more."

"Okay, um, that's fine. I assume you mean at a later date? Not right now?"

"No, not right now. Anytime is fine, really, it doesn't have to be soon."

"Okay then."

"You can go back to sleep now. That's all. I'm sorry I woke you up."

"It's okay, angel." He carded his fingers through Cas's hair, and Cas leaned into the touch. He kept on going until slowly, he fell asleep.

>

Morning came too soon. He wanted more time with Cas in his arms, when he didn't have to worry about someone hurting him.

The rational part of his brain said that Cas was a grown man who could take care of himself, that they all got scraped up sometimes, but the other part of his brain told him to wrap Cas in a blanket and hold tight and never let go.

He said.

"Good morning, Dean."

"How's the stomach?"

"I believe it is healed. Resting helped."

He sat up. "Then let's see. Maybe we can get those bandages off."

He peeled back some of the tape and gauze, and sure enough, aside from a little dried blood, the wound was clean. He worked the rest of the bandages off, and threw them away in the bathroom.

"You slept in your clothes." Said Cas, when he came back in.

"It happens." He shrugged. "No big deal."

"I slept in your clothes too, technically."

"That you did." He said, sitting on the bed next to Cas. He wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him in and kissing him softly.

It turned less soft when Cas began palming his chest, pushing him backwards onto the bed.

He smiled against Cas's mouth. "You're bossy today."

Cas just whimpered against his lips, rolling his hips against Dean's. He could feel Cas's straining erection. "Jeez, morning wood?" He said, slipping his tongue into Cas's mouth, making him moan around it.

He moved his hands to cup the other man's sweatpants-clad ass, as Cas rutted against him, shoving a thigh between Dean's own and awakening his cock.

They ground their hips into one another's, desperately kissing and straining for any kind of friction. Dean's jeans got in the way a little, and he was only half hard by the time Cas came. But Cas wasn't quite finished. He undid the fly of Dean's pants, and before Dean knew what was happening, he was gone from Dean's mouth and flicking his tongue across the slit of his cockhead.

Dean fisted his hands in Cas's hair as Cas swallowed him. He felt his cockhead bump the back of Cas's throat and watched his plump, soft lips work their way down to the base of his member. Cas's eyes flicked up to meet his for a second, before Cas pulled off of him, licking a stripe up the underside of his shaft before returning to bobbing his head up and down the length of Dean's cock.

"Cas, ah, I'm gonna –"

That was it, he was gone. He came in hot spurts, and Cas sucked it down as his legs melted into jelly.

Cas came back up to face him, laying his chin on Dean's chest and smirking at him. Dean was still panting. "Dude, where the hell did you learn that? I don't even think I can do that!"

"You should practice on me sometime." Said Cas. So he was Mr. Wiseguy now.

Then again, he wasn't really going to pick a fight with the guy who just gave him an amazing blowjob.

Instead, he leaned up and kissed him on the lips. "I've gotta get up and make breakfast, you tagging along?"

"I will." Said Cas, sitting up.

"Also, do you by any chance know what curing a demon is? It's the next trial."

Cas shook his head. "I do not."

"We're gonna look around the bunker, then, today. See if the men of letters knew."

"I assume you plan on eating breakfast first?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I do."


End file.
